


A Vivid And Wistful Melody

by MyEnglishRose



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Bottom Louis, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Fluffy Ending, Harry Styles & Louis Tomlinson are Neighbours, Liam is mentioned but not there, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Music, Phone Sex, Quarantine, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Top Harry, that's an actual tag ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:21:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25746553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyEnglishRose/pseuds/MyEnglishRose
Summary: "Slowly, he takes his violin out of its case, listens for a few more minutes to Louis’ flute, before joining him as best as he could. The flute stops for a few seconds, and Harry imagines Louis blinking cutely, taken aback, before huffing with a smile, and starting to play again, on a suddenly far happier tune. Harry closes his eyes as he twirls around the living room, violin in hand and music filling the air. He pictures Louis doing the same in his own flat while being careful as to not step on his cat.Somehow, even with heavy eyes and tired limbs, this is the happiest Harry has ever felt in years."In which they are neighbours stuck at home and they happen to start talking through a wall with a piano, a violin, and a flute. They end up writing the soundtrack of their own love story.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 34
Kudos: 255





	A Vivid And Wistful Melody

**Author's Note:**

> This… was my coping mechanism at the beginning of quarantine, and I really thought I would finish it once this is all over but NOPE, here’s your daily reminder to wear masks when going outside with a lot of people around and practice social distancing :)) That being said, that’s probably the fastest I’ve finished writing a fic when it’s not for a fic fest (still took 4 months—)
> 
> Fun fact being this is a sort of rewrite of an old fic of mine in 2013, but it was for another fandom, and in French. I try not to think too much about the fact I imagined a whole quarantine thing seven years ago, hah.

The stay at home order wasn't really what bothered Harry at first. Sure he loves going out, if he had to define himself he'd probably say he is an extrovert with a people pleaser complex, but he also loves the comfort of his flat, with the occasional company of a squirrel or a bird somehow ending up on his balcony. No, what bothered him at first was how, while he saw everyone else be productive and do or learn something during this trying time to distract themselves from the situation, he, on the other hand, has been staring at a blank piece of paper for a whole week, both his piano and violin left completely untouched. Instead, he's been sleeping, a lot, as if to compensate for all the hours of sleep he lost while being an actual functional member of society, and watching movies… And not even that, actually, because his attention span is horrendous lately so he ends up scrolling through social media, reading bad news on bad news with a random movie in the background just for some noise and activity in his new daily life. 

Don't get him wrong; doing nothing and just taking care of yourself isn't inherently bad, god knows he needed all those hours of sleep back, but he is someone who thrives off being productive and the thing is he doesn’t even _need_ to be productive. He is a musician, there isn’t so much work to do if there is no one to play for. He’s got his rent covered for at least the next three months — thank god he is that careful with money and his savings, take that Niall — and if this situation goes on for longer than expected he can get some money by teaching online piano lessons again to spoiled rich kids. So yeah, all in all, he’s got everything covered.

But he still wants to write. He wants to do something with his hands so he doesn’t get bored to death.

Again, technically he doesn’t need to, he’s a professional musician who only plays for others, and doesn’t have to offer some of his own creations to the world — mostly because no one wants to hear them since he is usually hired to play well-known classical pieces obviously but that is beside the point. It is really just for himself.

And for that little flicker of hope inside of him that someday his humble music could touch even just ten unknown strangers if he ends up recording and posting them somewhere.

It is the first week of April and flowers are starting to bloom outside his window. Almost a month has passed already since he’s been stuck inside. Some days he did go out for a run or something just to feel the sun and wind on his skin again if it wasn’t to get groceries. It was eerie, yet peaceful to walk down the usually busy streets of London and see no one apart from a few figures in the distance he could easily avoid.

This peculiar situation they are now living in should inspire him, Harry muses, and yet. He’s always been driven by emotions and what life gives him to create. Love, loss, specific events, boring routine, happiness, anger, sadness, desperation. Anything could spark inspiration, and yet here right now, nothing comes to him and it just makes him feel even more terrible.

 _Just play random notes_ , he tells himself now, hands hovering over his keyboard, _do fucking something so you don’t get rusty_.

So he does.

He cringes at the way his fingers tremble and hesitate over the keys as he overthinks his next move when everything usually came to him naturally before. Sighing, he stops and is about to get up in order to get some music sheets so at least he could play something listenable to when he hears a sudden clear flute close to him.

It stops almost as soon as it started.

Harry frowns, looking around for someone who somehow entered his flat without him noticing in the past days, but of course, he sees nothing out of the ordinary. Curiously, he starts to play _Do Sol Mi Ré_ on repeat.

About a minute passes as his hand effortlessly plays the same succession of notes before the flute comes back again, and plays the same notes as well, but in a minor key. Harry changes the notes, the flute quickly adapts, and it goes on like that for he doesn’t know how long, but he ends up finding himself smiling brightly.

As he stops playing, the flute, on the other hand, doesn’t falter and whoever is playing on the other side of the wall seems to be having the time of their life. Harry chuckles softly as he quickly grabs his notebook and a pen, trying to remember what they just played through muscle and hearing memory. He ends up filling half a page with his notes and he closes the notebook with a satisfied nod to himself.

Then, he looks at the wall on his left. That is where the flute is still coming from.

“Hey!” he yells, without any care in the world suddenly.

The flute stops for a few seconds as if waiting for him to continue. So he does.

“Thanks for that, you pulled me out of a writer’s block.”

 _Mi Mi Ré Fa Sol Do Do_ answers him, light and easy. As if to say “you’re welcome” on a jolly tone. 

“Say, let’s do this again tomorrow, same time? That was fun.”

There is a bit of silence, and for a moment, Harry is afraid he is talking to a literal wall and whoever his neighbour is left somewhere now that their presence wasn’t needed.

But then a voice just as light as the flute, though more muffled by the wall than the instrument was, reaches his ear.

“Got nothing else to do stuck inside, don’t we?” The northern accent is strong, the raspiness of the voice somehow adding to it. “I’d be glad.”

“I’m Harry by the way!” Harry rushes to say.

“I’m Louis,” _Louis_ clearly isn’t yelling like Harry currently is since he can barely hear him now and he has to actually get closer to the wall. He hopes Louis is doing the same from the other side. Even if no one is there to see him and watch him he still feels kind of dumb right now but stupidly giddy. This is the most human interaction he’s had in weeks when he self-defines as a social butterfly, sue him. 

“Nice to meet you, kinda,” Harry eventually says, laughing to himself.

“Ditto,” Louis answers. “But if you don’t mind mate, I actually have to go get groceries now or I’m gonna starve tonight.”

Harry actually frowns, disappointed that this meeting is cut short.

“Oh no problem, stay safe out there,” he says instead.

“Will do! Hear you tomorrow!”

For some reason, Harry bursts into laughter at that until his tummy hurts and as he falls on his couch about ten minutes later he wonders if love at first sight worked too if you just heard someone’s voice.

-: ✧ :-

It becomes a daily thing, and piece by piece, Harry manages to write the beginning of… something. He doesn’t know exactly what yet, for now all that he has looks like a jumble of notes he just put next to each other as every day brings a new improvised melody from him and Louis depending on the general atmosphere. Those “cessions” are also punctuated by small talks over the wall, even if every time Louis replies he sounds like he is trying not to laugh, which bothers Harry until he realises—

A week in, he remembers he has a balcony. And he feels pretty fucking stupid about it.

“Look who finally decided to poke his head out,” Louis’ finally clear and airy voice greets him on that fateful afternoon when he finally rediscovers his own balcony, and where his violin’s briefcase has been left out all this time — with how forgetful he is, Harry should feel grateful it hasn’t rained at all.

He isn’t facing Louis yet though, for some reason he braces himself first, taking a deep breath, before finally turning to his left. He is immediately met with crystal blue eyes and a bright smile and — holy fuck they are actually so close yet not close _enough_.

Despite having been stuck inside for as much as Harry, Louis has a slight tan to his skin, currently shining gold under the sun, and his light brown hair is gently brushed to the side, creating a soft-looking fringe Harry wants to run his hands through.

Except he can’t.

“Hi,” he says instead. He sounds breathless and he coughs into his elbow, prompting Louis to chuckle. “Sorry, breathed wrong.”

_What the fuck is he saying?_

“You’re cute,” Louis comments, still smiling. He’s not weirded out. _Good_. He thinks he’s cute. _Fucking great_. He sounds a little condescending though. _Not that good_. “Was wondering how long it would take before you remembered you had a balcony.”

“Eh, this time is messing with my head,” he justifies himself.

“You can just say you forgot there’s no shame in that.”

The embarrassing red gracing Harry’s pale cheeks is telling otherwise.

“It’s nice to finally know what you look like though,” Harry says, trying to appear unaffected but ultimately failing because he can still feel the heat on his cheeks.

“Likewise, neighbour.” Louis grins and almost goes to reach his hand for a handshake but then stops himself mid-way. “Right, not supposed to do that right now.”

Harry hums. “How long have you been living here?”

“This is going to be my third year, why?”

Harry blinks. “I’ve been here for four years how— how did we never meet?”

Louis gasps, a hand resting on his chest as if he just took a personal affront. “And you never welcomed me here when I first moved in, how rude of you!”

“Did the others do that?” Harry asks, genuinely curious.

“No,” Louis concedes. “Very unfriendly bunch, you all.”

“Yeah we really don’t do that here, I guess.”

“Pity, quite ironic how people are discovering they have neighbours only now that we’re all stuck inside. When she lived in the city, my mom told me her and one of her co-workers lived in the same building and they only found out the day she moved out and they crossed path on the stairs while she was carrying boxes. That’s pretty wild, don’t you think?”

“Pretty much everything right now is pretty wild,” Harry admits, leaning on the guardrail. “Do you feel lonely?” 

Louis shrugs. “Got this little demon with me,” he says, picking up a white fluffy cloud at his feet Harry hadn't noticed before. “She's called Snowball. Snow for short.” 

As if on cue, Snowball meows, showing off her fangs and big blue eyes.

Harry might have melted right there.

“Oh god I wanna pet her but I can’t.”

“Probably a good thing, she’s a possessive little shit,” Louis informs with a laugh just as the cat hisses at Harry. “See.”

“I can handle a few scratches if I get to feel all this fluff,” Harry assures.

Louis rolls his eyes as he puts Snowball down. The cat hurries back inside and Louis closes the glass door behind her. “Now that’s at your own risk. Not that you can anyway right now.”

“Right.” He doesn’t even try to hide his disappointment.

“So,” Louis starts, “you play the violin too?”

“I can play most instruments.” Okay, that sounded very full of himself. “I meant— I’m a professional musician, yeah, you aren’t?”

Louis shakes his head, confusing Harry. The boy has such a good musical ear, imagining him not working in some way in a musical profession seemed impossible.

“I’m a programmer, so I work from home most days so the current situation doesn’t change my usual routine much, frankly. That flute is more of a hobby than anything else.”

“Well, you’re really great at it.”

Louis doesn’t reply, only shrugs with a sheepish smile. They do not speak again for a while, both their gazes falling beneath them onto the empty and quiet street. It isn’t as much of a strange sight as it used to be when this whole quarantine thing began but it is still a bit unsettling to witness the usually busy capital be so silent.

“How long do you think it will last?” Louis asks softly.

“A long time,” is the only vague answer Harry can give. “But hopefully by the end of it I’ll finish composing… whatever I’m composing.”

“Ah, so that’s what the random notes in the middle of the day are for, I thought you were just bored,” Louis confesses with a laugh. “You better give me credits if you release the thing.”

Harry smiles. “I will make sure to let the world know you’ve been my muse.”

He really had no idea how true those words would later be.

-: ✧ :-

A new routine then comes out of this encounter. Harry is now more attuned to the sounds coming from the flat to his left. He usually wakes up way before Louis does, so all he can hear through the wall for a few hours is Snowball running around and meowing, trying to get her owner to wake up. By the time he is done eating breakfast is when Louis himself wakes up. Harry then does his usual workout routine at home while Louis is working, if the muffled constant keyboard smashing is anything to go by. Then around 1 PM Harry sits down in front of his piano and starts playing the beginning of their piece together. It usually takes a few seconds before Louis’ flute joins him and then they play for an hour or so, prolonging what they’ve already established in the past few days. After that, they meet at their balconies and talk about what they just played, or whatever is happening in their life. 

It is now a whole two weeks later and also 3 AM. Louis is playing. It isn’t exactly keeping Harry awake, quite the contrary really — though he never realised before how thin the walls truly are, this building sucks for people who want true silent peace, huh — the light, almost playful, flute makes him want to just close his eyes and let his heart be led by this oh so delightful music, but he forces himself to be awake.

Louis never plays on his own during the day, he only ever joins in when Harry starts to play. He makes a few mistakes here and there, a few dissonant sounds probably making him wince and it seems like he is repeating the same piece over and over again until he gets it perfectly. Harry’s brain is too tired to properly tell what Louis is playing but there is an air of nostalgia to it, a longing for something lost a long time ago.

Harry wants to know more about this curious man he cannot believe he has been neighbours with for so long without ever meeting each other.

Slowly, he takes his violin out of its case, listens for a few more minutes to Louis’ flute, before joining him as best as he could. The flute stops for a few seconds, and Harry imagines Louis blinking cutely, taken aback, before huffing with a smile, and starting to play again, on a suddenly far happier tune. Harry closes his eyes as he twirls around the living room, violin in hand and music filling the air. He pictures Louis doing the same in his own flat while being careful as to not step on his cat.

Somehow, even with heavy eyes and tired limbs, this is the happiest Harry has ever felt in years.

-: ✧ :-

It continues. During the day, Harry leads the dance with his piano and violin, while during the night Louis is the one who prompts a duet with his flute. They don’t talk about the latter one, for reasons Harry is not quite sure he knows himself. In both cases though, Harry ends up scribbling notes on his once blank sheet of paper and it is with delight, a week later, that he realises he has basically finished a whole piece for the piano and flute duet when he tries to play from the beginning again and he wants to share it with Louis so they can play the whole thing together when he realises that he has no means of communication with Louis outside of their instruments and their brief discussion over their balconies.

And that is so strange, Harry muses, how in the midst of all of this, he forgot phones even existed.

“What’s your number, by the way?” Harry asks directly that day. 

Louis blinks, bringing a hand over his heart in a faux offence. “Very forward of you, Styles, we barely know each other.”

Harry rolls his eyes at his neighbour’s antics. “It’s been two months.”

“Wait, has it really? Fuck, time flies, guess that’s what happens when every day feels the same.” Harry only nods nonchalantly at the observation. It really has. “Guess it’s overdue, why didn’t we exchange numbers before?”

“I forgot my phone existed,” Harry admits with no shame whatsoever this time. He congratulates himself for his honesty in his head.

“You haven’t… called any friend or family?”

“Well… they’re kind of used to me disappearing sometimes, it’s when they know I’m in the creative zone. But I’m sure if I picked up my phone again now I’d be met with a string of messages from Niall cursing me in Gaelic or some shit to try to get a reaction.” Harry snorts just at the thought while Louis tilts his head to the side, fringe now slightly hiding his eyes due to how long it is getting. Louis also has a slight stubble now, and Harry unconsciously starts to scratch his own growing beard he has not bothered to shave at all for a while now.

“Who’s Niall?” Louis asks.

“Oh! Right. A college friend. He owns a pub down the street. Very Irish and loud.”

“That is… quite the succinct description,” Louis laughs then gets his phone out. “Anyway, I’m saving your number under ‘forgetful violin man’.”

Harry does not object, especially the first text he receives that evening from Louis is a picture of Snowball, curled up around a plushy resembling a unicorn. He registers the number under “Moonlight” followed by a music note. That night, right after Louis is done playing the flute for the moon while Harry simply listened this time, the violinist sends him the piano and flute duet he has been working on. He doesn’t get a verbal response or a text, instead, the flute sings again from the other side of the wall, a string of major and quick notes.

_Mi Mi Ré Fa Sol Do Do_

-: ✧ :-

Coincidentally, the rest of the neighbourhood has also started to pay attention to their little cessions. When the time for them to create together comes, Harry can always spot a few windows on the opposite street opening, as if waiting with open arms Louis’ and his modest symphony. Or well, rather a melody. Except that this time, they do have something with more structure to offer them and Harry feels his cheeks hurting with how a simple text reading _“Let’s blow their minds? Waiting for your queue to start”_ illuminates his phone screen as he takes place in front of his piano.

He shuffles a bit on his seat, arranging the partition sheets over and over again in front of him, oddly as nervous as if he were actually performing in front of an audience. Which he is, technically, but it shouldn’t feel as dawning since he cannot see their judgemental expressions face to face. Maybe it is the prospect of Louis hearing and interpreting his own work with him that feels so dreading to him suddenly. He has no reason to, realistically, as Louis did tell him that by just reading the partitions he already loved it and he could not wait to play it. He had asked Harry how he wanted him to play his parts and Harry had just answered “however you like it” which prompted a string of confused emojis from the older man.

As it turns out, Louis, against Harry’s better judgement, prefers to have clear instructions given to him. With such a free spirit and the rebellious and liberating attitude Louis radiates when he plays his trusting flute, Harry never would have guessed, really.

“Alright, let’s do this,” he whispers to himself, takes a deep breath, and then lets his hands caress the ivory keys effortlessly.

Soon enough, and right on queue, Louis’ flute joins him in this melodic dance, loud and clear. Harry closes his eyes, knowing his own work by heart already and can’t help but feel his smile grow a tiny bit bigger every time he hears Louis make a slight mistake and yet never miss a beat and sometimes improvise when the rhythm gets too fast for his slightly less experienced hands.

That is the fun of it, though, isn’t it? Harry muses as he can somehow feel Louis’ excitement from here despite the mistakes. It makes the piece more authentic to him like human beings are actually playing instead of two automatic and perfect instruments always in tune. He should take notes of that too, he tells himself and files that thought in the back of his mind.

The duet ends with a small flute solo so when Harry stops playing, letting his finger press on the C minor chord, he is curious to see how Louis is gonna play.

And he plays like he is talking to the moon again, sweet and slow, longing but curious and eager to see another day… to hear another song, and Harry can’t wait to finish the violin and flute duet.

When Louis’ last note fades into the air, Harry swears he can hear a few claps and cheers, maybe even a childlike “thank you” in the distance but he doesn’t get to think too much of it as his phone soon chirps with a new message again from Louis. And it’s a picture of Snowball, sleeping next to Louis’ flute case.

_Your music is cat approved, she meowed along for most of it then promptly fell asleep during my solo, which, kinda rude and kinda sweet._

Harry smiles, feeling his heart melt.

**That is the greatest compliment I could ever get but give yourself some credits moonlight, you were the muse after all.**

_Flattering me will lead you everywhere, Styles._

Harry stops himself from replying with some cheesy pick-up line but he smiles, already picking up a pen and a new sheet of paper again.

-: ✧ :-

Things take a turn as the quarantine is prolonged and Harry starts getting restless, and not on the creative and work side of things, not really. Harry is not exactly proud to admit it, because so far he has been so focused on his writer’s block and then on getting to know Louis that he hasn’t realised his body was getting— a bit desperate with the loneliness, to say the least.

He’s fucking _horny_ , is what he is and it’s not something he can casually bring up in a conversation and the worst being he realised that after one discussion with Louis earlier in the evening.

“I never asked back,” Louis had said, the faint sound of a purr buzzing into Harry’s ear as he clutches his phone close, “do you feel lonely? It will soon be three months of this.”

Harry was in his room, staring a bit dejectedly at the various partition sheets covering his floor and his violin just lying there in the middle of it all as Harry failed to finish writing the violin and flute duet he was so excited to share with his neighbour who then proceeded to reassure him and remind him that neither of them is going away for a while anyway still.

“A bit,” he had admitted. “I don’t have a cute animal to keep me company.”

“You’ve got me,” Louis had pointed out immediately and Harry could hear the pout in his voice.

 _Do I_ , was Harry’s first thought because while the frequent discussions over their balconies and phones are more than appreciated, he still misses the pleasure of feeling someone’s body against his, being able to cuddle and touch and— 

And then Louis had suddenly whined when Snowball apparently decided she had enough cuddles and jumped off Louis’ laps to her owner’s dismay and the sound went straight to Harry’s groin and he is absolutely _not_ proud of it. The call ended soon after that, to Harry’s relief, but not without Louis teasing him about how he will be practising the flute tonight and the way he said “I’m gonna blow your mind!” definitely did not worsen Harry’s state. Louis even later sent a selfie, winking at the camera and pretending to blow his flute and it was quite the visual for Harry’s aroused state of mind.

So here he is now, after two whole glasses of whiskey, sprawled out on his bed, lazily stroking himself. The touch almost feels foreign, only now realising all the pent up tension his body has been through especially since meeting Louis.

“Let’s get this quickly over with,” he groans to himself, feeling just slightly guilty as he starts truly stroking his length, thumb gracing his slit every so often, sending a thrill all over his body. He closes his eyes and lets his head fully fall in between his cushions as the familiar burning feeling starts to build up. That is when his thoughts start to wander, vision a bit fuzzy in his head after the drinks he’s had, and Louis’ voice still occupying his mind.

Almost like a hallucination, he hears Louis’ flute start to play just as he feels his climax approach. His hand slows down — to torture himself or to keep the pleasure going at the same time as Louis’ flute, Harry is not quite sure, his breath sure gets more erratic as he holds off his own orgasm just to better hear the music muffled by the wall behind him and his own breathing.

The flute soon ends, however, replaced by Louis’ laugh and him starting to hum to tune he just played and it sounds so fucking clear in Harry’s ears, he wonders if he’s just imagined the whole thing as he lets go with a groan, painting his chest with come. 

He lays there for a few minutes as pure silence now surrounds him, making him frown in confusion. So perhaps he truly has been imagining all of this, he feels a bit high and still slightly tipsy. Perhaps that is why he doesn’t really register it when he blindly reaches for his phone lying next to him on the bed and it opens immediately on his text messages with Louis.

**Did you ever just get off on someone’s voice?**

When Harry wakes up, early the next day, already dreading the consequences of his drunken decisions but he is met with a pleasing surprise for once.

_Am I just always on your mind no matter what? How sweet!_

_Also yes. Call next time, it would probably be better x_

And yeah, things take a turn after that.

-: ✧ :-

It is 3 AM and no flute is playing anymore, this time Harry is sure of it, but Louis' mixture of erratic breathing and high whines resonate like a delightful symphony to Harry's ears.

“Moonlight we’ve barely begun and you already sound so desperate,” Harry comments as he is still feeling his own growing erection through his briefs, not having to discard them yet, too focused on Louis.

“Because I am,” Louis answers truthfully, voice coming up a bit muffled and Harry imagines him half hiding his face in his cushions. “Fuck— Haven’t— haven’t had a proper wank in so long.”

“So you waited for me?” Louis hums in his ear. Harry is not quite sure if it’s answering his question or just a hum of pleasure as Louis continues to touch himself but he goes with it. “How sweet, I’ll make it worth it.”

“Mmh hope so. You sound so much more confident through the phone, that’s hot.”

“And you don’t think I’d be in person?”

“Well, I would love to see it.” A pause. “But I can’t.” Harry can hear the pout in his voice before some cheekiness comes slipping back in, “Entertain me, Curly, what would you do if you could have me, right there, with you?”

“You wouldn’t even be able to speak with my hands exploring your body and my mouth tasting every inch of you, moonlight.” He hears Louis’ breath hitch. “You have no idea what I would do once I can get a proper feel of your body.”

“Then be more specific,” Louis answers stubbornly, though Harry doesn’t miss the slight tremor in his voice. Harry stops himself from huffing. Truth be told, this is quite a new territory for him, he likes to believe he is good at reading his partners in bed but only when he gets to see and feel them in person. Through the phone, without even a face to gauge out what reactions Harry is eliciting from Louis, it is way more complicated for someone like him who loves to spoil his partners any way he can.

On top of that, Louis seems pretty good at keeping his voice steady despite the slip-ups. It almost feels like a test, Harry guesses, to see if he can provide the pleasure he seeks from him even despite the limitations they have right now.

But then Harry remembers something rather useful about their phones.

“Baby,” he says in a sweet tone, “how can I even be sure you’re naked right now?”

“Huh?” comes Louis’ confused reply.

“Let’s FaceTime.” It’s not really a question, nevertheless, Louis seems to really like the idea as he is the one who hangs up first to immediately call back while requesting a FaceTime. Harry wastes no time in accepting it, pleased to be met with Louis’ smile and somehow sparkly eyes even in the dark. Only Louis’ left is illuminated by what seems to be an LED light forming the shape of a moon on his wall, Harry is not quite sure, but he suddenly wonders if he himself isn’t drenched too much in darkness so he quickly pats his bedside table to find where his lamp is without looking away from his phone.

“Hey,” Louis greets again. He is on his stomach, legs going back and forth in the air. “See I’m naked,” he continues, panning the camera to his indeed naked bum. Harry definitely licks his lips. “now can we go back to business.”

“You’re really impatient, aren’t you,” Harry comments as Louis rolls around to be on his back and probably reach for his cock — which Harry cannot, unfortunately, see as the camera stays on Louis’ concentrated face.

“And if you continue acting so nonchalantly I’m hanging up and jerking off on my own,” Louis replies with a pout. “Can’t believe I am still hard though,” he mumbles next in wonder and it is a little muffled but Harry picks it up without any issue. So he finally disregards his own briefs, kicking it off his bed before reversing his camera to show his erected cock in full glory. He sees the exact moment Louis’ eyes light up as he gasps.

“Liking the view?” Harry asks with a smug tone he just cannot help. Screw him he always enjoys pretty men gawking at his dick okay?

Louis closes his mouth to lick his lips and he nods. “Very much so.” He moans softly as he seems to reach a hand under him. “Looks so big, would love to know how it feels in me.”

And yeah… yeah, Harry can go with that. He breathes in deeply, stroking his length as he sees Louis turn around again and go on all fours this time. Soon, he hears something clap open outside of the screen’s frame and it doesn’t take a genius to understand Louis had a bottle of lube just waiting to be used next to him.

“Gonna prep yourself for it then?” Harry asks. Louis simply nods, face scrunching just a little as he probably inserts the first finger in. The position makes it so it is harder to keep his phone steady but despite the blurry and shaky image, Harry gets to appreciate his face and the pretty noises coming out of his mouth. “Nice and slow mmh? How many can you take, you think?”

“Mmh, four in a good night, it’s been a while though,” Louis answers, wincing a little as he inserts a second finger into himself, “God, really a while, ’s tight.”

At his words Harry tightens his hold on his cock as he strokes, trying to recreate the sensation. An idea flashes through his mind and he switches the camera back to his face. Louis straight up whines to which Harry only raises an eyebrow, causing the other man to blush and curse under his breath.

“How many fingers are in?” Harry simply asks as he puts the phone down against his pillows and then props himself up on his elbows, hair falling forward as he looks down on Louis’ face who seems to appreciate the new angle. He starts grinding against his sheets, shivering at the pleasure coursing through him coupled with Louis’ blissful face in front of him.

Groaning, his neighbour replies, “Three— think, yeah, ‘m close already.”

“That’s alright,” Harry grunts in response, thrusting his hips hopefully to the rhythm of Louis pumping his fingers into himself. “I shouldn’t be far behind.”

Louis nods, hand seeming to move faster as he rolls his hips back to meet his own fingers from what Harry can see through a shaky image.

“On my queue baby, as usual?” he instructs.

Louis groans again, shuffling around in his bed as his orgasm obviously builds up. “We’re not— fucking playing.”

“With the way we’re making each other moan, we might as well be, what a beautiful melody,” Harry hums, propping himself on only one elbow now, his other hand roaming down his naked torso, imagining again the way Louis’ body would feel under his touch, imagining already the many ways he could make him squirm, shiver and beg for more and make this last for far longer than it has right now.

“Harry!” Louis whines, bringing him back to reality. His eyes are pleading, shining with unshed frustrated tears as he looks at the screen. “Don’t leave me hanging any longer, please.”

At those words, and wanting to reach his climax as well, he stops his grinding to fully grab his cock and stroke it, once, twice, feeling the familiar burning in his lower stomach build up. He moans which seems to prompt Louis to speak again, patience all gone to wait for a response.

“Alright just— can I come, please.”

 _Please_. That word sounds so satisfying from Louis’ mouth.

“So sweet of you to ask,” he hums, quickening his hand on his own cock, building up his orgasm again but keeping his own voice steady. “You can.”

And really, it is Louis’ moans as he comes that leads Harry to the edge as well, cursing under his breath as his own release now covers his hand and torso.

Both of them are panting as they lay in their own bed, neither of them apparently willing to end the call and go clean themselves up. And then, as Harry looks down on his cock, a rather impromptu thought goes through his mind and he clearly doesn’t have the mental capacity to stop himself from expressing it.

“Did you ever think about how blowing the flute can be a euphemism for, you know, _sucking dick_ ,” Harry muses, causing Louis to choke on his own saliva, effectively breaking the somewhat blissful silence they were bathing in just seconds ago.

“No, but I won’t be able to forget while playing now,” his neighbour complains.

“Hope you’re willing to blow my flute once this whole thing is over.”

Louis groans. “Why do I deal with you again.”

“Because you gotta admit, this was probably the hottest phone call you ever had,” Harry smirks as he says so when he hears Louis very clearly gulp. “C’mon baby.”

“Nope, nope nope!” Louis yells. “Quit your bedroom voice, I’m exhausted, I’m hanging up, goodnight.”

Harry laughs quietly to himself as Louis, in fact, doesn’t hang up, probably waiting for Harry to wish him a good night back, so he does. While keeping his lower voice.

“Goodnight, moonlight.” A huff is the only response he gets before Louis ends the call for real, this time.

-: ✧ :-

Louis can’t play the flute anymore while Harry is watching or he always ends up blushing furiously and being unable to continue. Harry finds it endearing, purposely never letting Louis out of his sight when they play on their balconies until Louis straight up walks back inside with a groan and then comes back.

It is kind of counterproductive, however, since Harry does want to practice playing what he composed for the violin and flute duet so he can make arrangements on it but seeing Louis get so flustered is too delightful and he can’t help but daydream about the day he will finally get this man under him in a bed, able to properly touch him and elicit those same reactions.

Now that he’s had a taste of it, kind of, it is difficult to not seek more.

“It’s actually so funny how flustered you’re getting right now with how shameless you were on the phone,” Harry comments lightly and it should be weird, having this conversation out in the open while leaning against the balcony’s guardrail with Louis’ back facing him.

“The context of the situation matters, you wanker,” Louis replies. “Continue and I won’t help you composing your music stuff!”

Harry hums, absolutely not feeling threatened at all.

“You’re cute,” he says instead.

Louis huffs, throwing a look over his shoulder to look at Harry. “Yeah, I know.” He smiles as he puts the flute back in its case by the door-window then faces Harry again. “And we should probably actually talk, instead of just playing.”

Harry can’t say he is surprised so he simply nods, putting away his own violin he’s been holding for the past thirty minutes for no reason.

“So, what now?” Louis asks.

“Well, I quite like you, if it wasn’t obvious enough, and I hope the feeling’s mutual,” Harry offers. “I usually ask for a date first and we already skipped some steps in my book but. Let’s be boyfriends?”

Louis makes a show of pretending to think but then he giggles. “I’m down, though I’m not really sure how it will work if we can’t, like, physically be close.”

“It’s a bit like a long-distance relationship I guess?”

“But this is worse because we’re literally next door.” Louis pouts, going on his tiptoes to lean a little more forward, reducing ever so slightly the distance between them. “Plus I’m a big cuddler.”

“You’ve got Snowball at least.”

“She is a big cuddler as well, it’s true. Very talkative too.” As if on cue, a loud meow joins their conversation and both their eyes fall on the small cat pawing at the guardrail next to Louis’ legs. The latter chuckles as he picks his pet up and she immediately climbs on his shoulders, tail and ears up high as she looks at Harry.

“Hello there!” Harry greets with a wave. She meows back, pawing the air. “Just speaking to your dad over there don’t worry I’m not stealing him away.” Another doubtful meow, prompting Louis to snort as he pets her chin so she settles down a bit.

“She likes you,” the flutist informs. “I’m kind of scared that—” Louis doesn’t get to finish that sentence because Snowball suddenly jumps forward, landing perfectly on Harry’s balcony. Louis visibly panics, arms stuck in the air, not quite sure of what just happened.

Harry is frozen as well, staring down at the little ball of white fluff now at his feet… and who is munching on his pyjama pants. He yelps, trying to get away, but the cat follows his movements, eyes fixated on the loose piece of threads of his pants.

“She does that,” Louis finally finishes his sentence. “Snowball what the heck get back here!”

She suddenly straightens up, as if realising where she was and the fact she does not know this balcony. She looks curiously up at Harry then at Louis in the distance and then meows even louder as she scratches the guardrail.

Harry doesn’t even think and immediately grabs her, earning him a few scratches around his wrists before she settles down a bit though she still seems quite stiff in Harry’s arms.

“Oh so now you don’t know how to jump!” Louis admonishes, pointing an accusatory finger towards his cat.

“I think she likes being in my arms.” Not really, she has now turned her head to sniff at his right bicep… and then lightly bite him. He doesn’t budge though but Louis’ eyes catch it and the flutist holds back a laugh that he badly hides behind his hand.

Louis shakes his head. “Let her come back through the hallway since miss suddenly doesn’t know how to be a cat.”

Harry chuckles. “Let’s.”

Unfortunately for Harry, this exchange also makes him realise for the hundredth time how close their doors are and how Louis is literally within arms reach. Once Snowball has gone back to Louis’ flat, Harry can’t help but stay for a few minutes standing in the hallway. And then he counts his steps to Louis’ door.

Three. Three steps.

He sighs and turns back before he stupidly knocks.

Yet a voice in his head tells him he should go for it. What would he even be risking?

-: ✧ :-

“I say go for it.”

“Niall that’s irresponsible!”

“Is it? You two have essentially been quarantined together, you literally live next to each other it’s kind of like just having different rooms in one big house since the walls are as thin as you say they are and neither of you is sick, so, think you’re good to see each other in person every once in a while. Unless he’s got an essential job and he has to go outside and interact with people often.”

And… and Niall is right, really. The measures are not as strict anymore and Harry knows he could go visit friends now if he wanted, but the only other person he could go visit is Niall and Niall has asthma so neither of them wants to really risk it and are quite content with calls and facetime. It’s just that— he doesn’t want to let his heart decide everything before his reason. It ended badly in the past.

“Already told you he works from home,” Harry finally replies and he can literally feel Niall roll his eyes from the other end of the line.

“Yeah you did, a hundred times even.”

“How can I not? Have you seen him?”

“I actually haven’t. You keep gushing about this guy and haven’t shared at least one picture so I can appreciate his looks too? I thought you were a friend,” Niall chastises.

“Aren’t you straight.”

“Precisely, no fear of me trying to steal him away from you. But I can still appreciate a good bum.”

“Niall!”

“Your words, not mine.”

“Ugh, you should definitely see him when he plays the flute, though,” Harry raves again. “The elegance, daintiness, confidence—”

“Is that a euphemism?”

“No!”

Niall laughs loudly, so loud in fact that Harry has to distance the phone from his ear for a minute. That is when he spots movement on his balcony, only to see as well as hear Snowball pawing repeatedly at the glass door. She even looks like she’s glaring at the door for having the audacity to be in her way. Harry freezes.

“U-um, I gotta go, I’ll call you back later Nialler.”

He doesn’t let Niall the time to respond and promptly hangs up to instead run to his balcony and open the window-door.

“Snowball how the fuck did you get there?!” Harry panics immediately as he grabs the cat, Snowball making a sort of yelping sound at the sudden action.

Of course, the cat doesn’t answer and just stares at him with her big blue eyes, as if studying him. Harry sighs and then notices Louis’ door leading to the balcony being wide open — right, it has been so hot lately, all of Louis' windows have been opened during the night in the hopes of getting some wind here and there since he doesn’t have any AC installed and Snowball saw it as an opportunity to come to pay Harry a little visit he guesses. Again. Harry wonders if she noticed how chillier it was in his flat and if that is the only reason she is there now.

Louis must still be sleeping after last night, Harry muses as he cannot hear any sound from Louis’ flat. He sure as hell knows that if he noticed Snowball missing, he would cause a ruckus.

“So what now?” Harry asks to the void. Or to the cat. He doesn’t really know, Snowball just dangles her paws and it is very cute but Harry is still very concerned. He sighs as he puts her down to go close the door leading to the balcony again. Almost immediately, she makes her way to Harry’s piano, climbing on the keys, producing assonant notes and making Harry flinch.

She sniffs around and stops at the partitions there. Then she looks at Harry and the latter swears she is just asking for him to come to play for her.

So he does. As soon as he sits down in front of his piano, she jumps on Harry’s laps and then sits there, facing the instrument with her ears up straight. Harry’s hands hover in the air for a minute or so, quite apprehensive on what he could or could not do with that cat all up in his business, he hesitantly starts petting her head and she seems to relax immediately as purrs resonate against Harry’s chest.

He appreciates her soft fur for a few seconds before he gets his hands on the keyboard again. Snow’s ears go up almost instantly at the action. At first, he plays random notes, but Snowball quickly gets agitated for reasons Harry does not understand, so instead, he starts to play the piece he and Louis have been creating for the past months and that seems to get a positive reaction out of the pet much more easily as she seems to try to meow in rhythm. A large smile forms on Harry’s lips as he realises she somehow recognises the music. As if on queue, as soon as Louis’ part is supposed to come up, Snowball starts looking around, losing interest in Harry’s piano since she jumps off his laps to instead jump on the couch and paw at the wall connecting his flat with Louis’.

And again, with perfect timing, he can hear screaming from the other side, startling the cat who goes back beside Harry’s legs.

“Harry! Please tell me she’s with you!” Louis yells through the wall in distress, clearly not even bothering to call or send a text instead of causing such chaos. Their other neighbours must wonder what is wrong with them.

 _Mi Mi Ré Fa Sol Do Do,_ Harry plays on the piano as a response, Snowball even meowing in a surprisingly accurate key to match the C chord at the end.

“Quit your music bullshit and just yell yes or no goddammit!” Louis shouts in frustration.

Harry laughs softly. “Yeah, she’s here!”

“Oh thank fuck.”

-: ✧ :-

The problem now is that it keeps happening, if not during the night, Snowball straight up escapes to Harry’s flat during the day _multiple times_ as if directly challenging her owner. Both men start getting pretty annoyed by the cat’s endeavours. That is how they find themselves a week later in the hallway again, both leaning against their doors as Snowball happily prances in circles in between them.

“She really doesn’t want to leave you,” Louis laughs weakly as he glares at the cat. “Maybe we should just move in at this point she seems to like your flat more than mine. Ungrateful brat.”

Harry knows he’s probably just joking, but he still cannot help it when he hears himself say as nonchalantly as possible: “That wouldn’t be a problem, technically.” Oh god, he should shut up. “I mean, we’re literally next door and we can just stay indoors for, what, a week more or so just to be extra safe?” So apparently he really can’t shut up. “Of course you could just come to visit, or let her come here on her own but that sounds a bit hectic I guess.”

Louis stares at him for a while, but Harry can see a slight approving smile on the edge of his lips but he wills his heart to not get his hopes up.

“You sound like you’ve been thinking about it a lot,” the older boy comments.

“I may have,” Harry admits.

Louis smiles lovingly. “I’m tempted, not going to lie. It feels like we’re moving so fast, though.”

Four months. It’s been four months. Usually, for Harry, that’s only the beginning of a relationship, in which they have been going on a couple of dates, maybe have slept together once, maybe twice, not more, to see how things go but with Louis and with the whole peculiar situation, all those steps got skipped and yet Harry doesn’t feel like they have been rushing this at all.

“Yet we haven’t even touched each other,” Harry reminds him which gets Louis to suddenly blush as his blue eyes immediately look Harry up and down again. The latter has to stop himself from smirking, though he will not deny his ego being quite pleased with the obvious hunger and longing in Louis’ eyes at the comment.

Louis gulps and shakes his head, bringing him out of whatever trance he put himself in. “If Snowball sneaks into your house again tomorrow, let’s do this.” Harry nods.

And Snowball does exactly just that. Better then, as if she knew the men’s agreement when Harry wakes up, he finds the white cat curled up on one side of his couch on top of three cushions, a spot that will, with time, become _her_ spot, Harry concedes.

-: ✧ :-

Louis moves in. Well, he actually only moves in all the cat stuff — which does include a cat tower Harry is _ecstatic_ to build again — his computer, flute and a bunch of fairy lights. Harry asks him about his clothes and Louis argues he won’t be going out much anyway still and that worst-case scenario, he can just go back to his own flat to change or he could steal a few of Harry’s clothes, notably to sleep in, and Harry would be a liar if he said that just the thought didn’t turn him on even just a little.

All in all, the move goes swiftly. Their routine doesn’t even change that much either, Harry wakes up before Louis, feeds Snowball who is always waiting by the kitchen doors then by the time he finishes making breakfast, Louis tiptoes his way into the kitchen as well and hugs him from behind as a good morning. And oh yeah, they just. Haven’t stopped touching too as Harry learned Louis is even more of a cuddler than he was warned he would be by the man himself. Not that he is complaining— but it is getting just a bit too hot outside but he also can’t say no to Louis’ blue eyes anyway.

After, Louis works at his computer for a few hours while Harry still works out in another room — “So you can’t distract me!” Louis had insisted — and if he is done before Louis has turned off his computer, he either starts cooking lunch or revisits his music sheets if he feels like he needs to change a few notes or such.

Once lunch is done is when things alter a little. Louis messes around with his flute while Snowball has fun running between his legs as he dances around the living room while Harry fondly looks from the couch, completely entranced by the beauty feeling himself in front of him. Hearing him play is already an experience in itself what with Louis’ endearing beginner-like way of playing that is actually intentional, but seeing him and the way the flute seems to ignite a peculiar flame in his eyes as his whole demeanour changes and inspires confidence and esteem just makes Harry's heart melt with this indescribable fondness.

By 1 PM, as per usual, Harry is at his piano, Louis at his flute waiting for his queue and they give a small concert to any willing ear out there who needs some distraction from the world for an hour or two. When evening approaches, Harry cooks, they eat while watching a random movie on Netflix and then they go to bed. Well, not in the same bed, though. With how fast things have gone, Louis has suggested they should still set some sort of boundaries and took the guest room and that is where Snowball usually sleeps as well. In fact, now that Harry thinks about it, they may have cuddled a lot and touched each other a lot, but neither of them has instigated anything more suggestive so far — which kind of contrasts with how many times they got off together through the phone. It was like as soon as they were in the vicinity of each other properly they didn’t feel the need to rush things in that aspect of their relationship.

And then, a week in, just as they are supposed to start practising Harry’s music piece, Louis doesn’t seem to want to put on a show for their neighbourhood. As soon as Harry sits down in front of his piano, Louis just drapes himself on his back instead of getting his flute out of its case. Harry chuckles softly.

“What are you doing moonlight?” he asks.

“I used to play the piano,” Louis says casually, ignoring his inquiry as he runs his hands on the keys while still having his face just nestled into Harry’s neck. Harry can’t really help himself as he slowly brings his own hands over Louis’, intertwining their fingers and pulling the other man a little more forward, somehow bringing them closer. Clearly, he doesn’t mind the change of plans.

“Is that so?” Harry humours him then. “Tell me more.”

“Don’t get too excited, I only know how to play happy birthday and the beginning of _How To Save A Life_ by The Fray. If that.”

“It’s something.”

“Will you teach me properly someday?”

“You’ve got a good musical ear already and you can read music sheets fairly easily,” Harry tells him, “I’m sure in no time you could be better than me.”

“You flatter me, Styles.”

“Only telling the truth.”

Louis hums, leaning forward again, letting his whole weight fall on Harry’s back. Harry keeps his stance straight as to not slouch too much. That could be bad for his back problems. Perhaps he should actually tell Louis about that, but he can’t really be bothered to do so at the moment.

“Tell me, how did you get into music?” Louis asks softly. Harry actually has to pause to think for a moment.

“Growing up I was the quiet kid who struggled a lot with words. Which makes it sound way more dramatic than it actually is. I wasn’t particularly good in any subject at school except music and as soon as I got my hands on a violin, it was pretty much over for any other hobby I could have had. I could make others feel and understand feelings I would never be able to with words through my music. Granted, I haven’t… broke out since people aren’t as interested in just instrumental music anymore but— life turned out pretty good.”

“That’s amazing then,” Louis whispers. “You found your calling early on, lucky you.”

“What about you?” Harry bounces back the question. There is a bit of silence as Louis seems to ponder his reply too, breathing in deep.

“I used to smoke and the flute helped. Was lucky enough I didn’t have to buy it, got it from one of my sisters who asked for one for Christmas and ended up never learning how to play.” Louis huffs at the memory. “Anyway. Whenever the urge to pick up a cig came to me, I just took my flute and played for a while until the urge was gone. My neighbours hated me I think because I didn’t try to make it sound good, I was just… blowing. Then one day I just decided, time to actually learn how to play y’know? So that when I’m stressed at least I’m not putting others through a hellish concert.”

Louis takes a deep breath after that and smiles at him. Harry can’t really see it, considering their position, but he can feel it against his skin.

“I got Snowball when I first moved here. She helped too, with anxiety and stress. She had separation anxiety when I had her, and she clearly doesn’t have it anymore if she’s okay just jumping on your balcony in the middle of the day.” A chuckle. “Not that I’m complaining, your flat’s so much cosier. Bigger too.”

“It wasn’t that cosy before you moved in, believe me. My decoration skills are _nonexistent_.”

Louis snorts. “Well, yeah, indeed. Watch me invade everything with knickknacks you will hate me for.” Lips leave a few light kisses on Harry’s neck. “Still love it though.”

Harry hums, turning his head ever so slightly, and only ending up with Louis’ hazelnut hair in his face as the latter seems intent on leaving a mark on his neck at the moment.

However, as soon as Louis seems to be done and starts to pull away, probably to see his own work, Harry instead swiftly turns around, grabbing Louis’ face and then bringing their lips together.

It feels electrifying. Finally getting to kiss and touch appears long overdue and Harry wastes no time in coaxing Louis’ mouth open to deepen the kiss and revel in the way he can feel Louis shiver under his fingertips. Soon enough, Louis plops down on his laps and winds his arms around Harry’s neck. Harry’s hands switch position as well, one hand still cradling Louis’ cheek while the other finds home in the small of his back.

It has been a while for both of them, it is quite obvious with the sloppiness of it all but it doesn’t discourage Harry as he keeps a steady rhythm, exploring every inch of Louis’ mouth with vigour, rendering the latter completely defenceless. A few familiar whines and groans escape from his throat and Harry spares a thought at how much more satisfying they sound in person before he pulls away, panting a bit.

Louis is breathing quite irregularly as well, lips red and pupils blown and Harry wants to have another taste again but then he feels something poking his leg. Sensing Harry’s momentarily distracted stance, Louis looks down too to see Snowball just staring at them. But then she crouches down, tail high as she wiggles, eyes fixated on Harry’s leg, pupils dilating in approximately one second.

“Uh oh,” is the only warning Harry gets from Louis before his boyfriend literally jumps off his laps and he feels claws scratching him through his pants.

He will later deny the way he screamed from the top of his lungs and cried for a full two minutes at the pain. “You get used to it,” Louis had said as he tended to his injury due to a cat’s jealousy. It didn’t help.

-: ✧ :-

“I did tell you she was a possessive little shit,” Louis tells him later that night as they watch her eat peacefully from her bowl.

“To be fair, you did,” Harry concedes with a sigh. It still hurts. “I thought she liked me now, I mean she did escape to my flat and that’s how she repays me?!”

“Cats are like that, probably just a game for her.”

“Do you get scratched randomly like that too?”

“Nope!” Louis happily proclaims. “Got her as a kitten actually, a gift from Lottie when I moved away, so. She used to bite me a lot but I always pulled back screaming ‘ouch’ and granted it didn’t actually hurt, I was just humouring her, but then I guess she really thought she was hurting me and started licking where she bit or she would start nibbling and then stop and lick instead. Scratches though? She never felt the urge for that…” He suddenly claps his hands. “I forgot her scratching thingies in my flat!”

And Harry just. Stares for a while, his leg still a bit stinging. Louis innocently smiles at him, not moving from where he’s dangling his feet off the kitchen counter. “That’s where snacks belong,” Louis had said as he hopped on it while Harry was cooking earlier.

“They’re pretty old and used, so I should probably buy her new ones before she starts using our couch and stuff, actually.”

They both freeze at the same time after this seemingly mundane remark. Louis quickly blushes furiously while Harry’s cheek hurt with how big of a smile he is now sporting.

“ _Our_ ,” Harry repeats, voice dripping delight as Louis groans, hiding his face yet not moving from where he is sitting. “Our! Who’s moving too fast now!”

“Shut up!”

“No!” Harry happily skips towards him and fits himself perfectly in between Louis’ legs as he peppers his boyfriend’s face with kisses. “That is cute, you already think of this flat as ours. I do too,” he assures, as he gently pulls Louis’ hands away so he can look him in the eye again. “It’s only been a week but I wouldn’t be able to imagine this place without you now.”

Louis mumbles something Harry can’t quite catch but then they’re kissing, Louis winds his legs around his hips and he doesn’t care too much. It is a chaste kiss, they have to keep it short and sweet after all, they still haven’t eaten and they kind of have to keep an eye on the chicken in the oven. It doesn’t stop Louis from looking absolutely sinful when he pulls back, lips all red and eyes sultrily looking down at Harry.

“Tonight. Fuck me.”

Harry raises an eyebrow at that and though he tries to appear uninterested, he is pretty sure he is smirking so he failed at that, really. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s months overdue now, been gushing ‘bout my hot neighbour to Liam for all this time but turns out the hunk next door has trouble taking hints,” Louis huffs with a dismissive hand gesture as he looks away, playing bored. “All week I’ve been waiting but you’re so daft I really had to ask you bluntly, way to make me feel special, Curly.”

The act drops soon enough when Harry sneaks a hand under his shirt, going straight for his nipple. As soon as his fingertip even dares to brush over it, Louis’ whole body shivers and he lets out a small whine.

“Oh I _will_ make you feel special, moonlight, but for now I need to feed that snarky little mouth of yours, so hop off the counter, will you?” he states in a firmer tone with a pat on Louis’ thigh.

Harry pulls away before Louis can protest, going straight to the oven to see that the chicken is indeed ready. He doesn’t miss the pout still on Louis’ face while the latter is dressing the table for the both of them so Harry makes sure to kiss it away.

Now that they have started, Harry surely won’t stop.

-: ✧ :-

It’s the dead of the night and Harry is keeping his promise if Louis’ blissful expression under him is anything to go by. His eyes are closed, head thrown back into the cushion, biting his lips as if it was doing anything to prevent the small whines coming out of him every time Harry thrusts straight into his prostate.

He looks so _beautiful_ and Harry can’t believe that is the face he has been stopped from seeing for many weeks.

Louis is still wearing his shirt — well, Harry’s shirt really — as per his own request, loving the way the fabric rides up his chest, brushing against his nipples at any of their synchronised movements while Harry has his hands stroking in rhythm Louis’ cock and his mouth is absolutely not letting any of the skin on Louis’ neck unmarked.

Harry can feel the exact moment it becomes too overwhelming for Louis when the latter literally tightens everything. His hole clenches on Harry’s dick, his legs that were up in the air the minute before are now tightly wound around Harry’s waist, bringing them ever so closer while Louis’ nails dig into his arms in an almost painful way.

But he doesn’t get to really think about it as it triggers both of their orgasms. Harry lifts his head just in time to swallow Louis’ moan in his mouth as he comes in the condom and his hand and stomach are both painted in Louis’ come.

He still strokes him a bit, loving the way Louis whines and shakes, legs unintentionally kicking, now sensitive, before Harry wipes his hand on the sheet. He doesn’t move from where he is nestled deep inside Louis yet, kissing his pliant and exhausted boyfriend some more instead.

“Alright alright, it’s getting uncomfy, get off me now,” Louis finally complains after a moment. And so Harry does.

A few minutes later, they are both laying in bed, cleaned up and all wrapped up in each other yet neither seems willing to fall asleep yet. Louis is drawing random shapes on Harry’s arms, effectively keeping him awake while Harry stares at the new fairy lights decorating the corners of the room.

“Are you sleeping here now?” Harry asks eventually.

“I think I am,” Louis confirms. “If you don’t mind.”

“I obviously don’t.” Harry smiles when Louis stops drawing and just snuggles closer instead. “I mean— as long as you don’t get up at 3 AM to randomly play the flute again.”

Louis groans against his neck. It tickles a little.

“I actually was wondering why you never asked about that before,” the flutist mumbles.

“Well… I am kind of curious now? I mean you said it was a coping mechanism but in the middle of the night?”

“I figured. Well—” he fumbles a little with his fingers, “you, uh, kind of kept me up at night?”

Harry frowns, quite confused by the statement. He is pretty sure Louis has been the one playing music while the moon is high in the sky and keeping Harry up at night instead.

“Listen, this is embarrassing— so don’t you dare fucking laugh.”

“No promises,” Harry grins, enjoying maybe a bit too much how flustered Louis sounds.

Louis rolls his eyes. Harry doesn’t see it but he knows.

“I had a huge crush on you ever since I moved into my flat, alright? You may have not noticed me before this whole lockdown thing, but I did see you every once in a while and, you’re fit, alright? Was just a crush anyway. But then we actually started talking and you flirted back and I’m someone who overthinks stuff so I ended up having sleepless nights thinking of you and I guess I vented my frustration to the moon through my flute or whatever, I don’t know myself okay?”

Louis is rumbling now, voice going higher the further he goes on with his explanation and he is so fucking embarrassed Harry doesn’t have the heart to chuckle and prolongs his suffering. Instead, he wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s body and nuzzles his cheek for a few seconds, feeling Louis relax against him.

“Did the moon ever soothe your worries, then?” Harry whispers ever so softly.

Louis sighs lovingly against his neck. His eyelashes brush gently against the skin there, making Harry shiver a little. “No, you did.”

Harry is glad to know that.

-: ✧ :-

The day Harry is finally completely happy with the violin and flute duet he is composing, he cannot help but twirl Louis around the living room for at least an hour — probably an exaggeration, but in his mind, it felt like it — before Louis complains about being dizzy so Harry sets him down on the couch and excitedly tells him he wants to record their duets. With Louis obviously playing the flute instead of Harry playing all the instruments in his recordings like he used to do.

And so he rents a studio down the street for a day and convinces Louis to come with him and record the flute part.

“I thought you like recording everything yourself, though?” Louis points out as Harry sets up the microphones. Harry looks up at the nervous tone he is hearing in Louis’ voice.

“I do,” he confirms, now walking back towards his boyfriend and gently pats his legs that were twitching. Louis immediately stops, shuffling a little to leave Harry some room on the couch. “Why are you so anxious?”

“I don’t wanna mess up…”

“Good thing we can record all day. Well, we’re gonna have to take a break for lunch, but other than that, we’ve got as many tries as we need.”

Louis doesn’t look convinced still, looking away with a frown.

“Baby…” Harry tries again. “What’s wrong?”

“It just— feels too important, y’know?” Louis explains, hands suddenly moving everywhere. “You’ve been so passionate about this and I just don’t want to waste your time.”

“How would my time be wasted when I enjoy every single second I get to spend with you?” Harry purrs, catching Louis’ trembling hands in his and kissing his cheek. “Proof being we just spent two weeks in my flat without going out once and we’re still not at each other’s throat. Not surprising though, I am a dream to be stuck with, you told me so.”

“Alright I feel like I need to lower that big ego of yours,” Louis giggles, trying to playfully push Harry away but it only results on him falling backwards instead, Harry’s weight laying on top of him. “Harry!”

“What? I’m comfortable here.”

“I’m not!” Louis whines.

“You did not mind the other night though.”

“Context Harold for fuck’s sake!”

“I just love how flustered you always get!” Harry joyfully observes before kissing him square on the lips. Louis always melts and goes all pliant with a simple kiss. Harry loves it. “Come on,” he encourages as he pulls back and brings Louis up with him as well. “Blow me away.” He stops when he notices Louis’ deadpanned face. “That innuendo was not intended.”

“But you’re gonna use it now, aren’t you,” Louis says in his most monotone voice.

“You know me so well!”

So, okay, he deserves the slap on his balls after that.

-: ✧ :-

Louis falls asleep when he listens back to their numerous takes, headphones sliding off his head while hunched over the console. Harry gently takes the headphones away, kisses Louis’ head. He unplugs the headphones, music now softly filling up the whole studio. After firmly closing the door, Harry sits back on the couch afterwards as he finally lets everything that happened in the past six months finally register in his head. 

His own music seems to guide him through his self-reflection. The anxious, hesitant beginnings as Louis and him just learned of each other’s existence — well, when _Harry_ learned of Louis’ existence more precisely, which he still can’t fathom the fact that in three years never once has he noticed the cute brunet living literally next door — the piano follows a same simple melody. _Mi Mi Ré Fa Sol Do Do._ The flute joins in soon after and a canon ensues. The piece becomes more and more joyful as Harry reminisces the giddiness of finding someone sharing his interest, of finding someone who inspires him, of finding someone who makes him feel _loved_ and _in love._

The thought hits him just as the flute’s solo comes up but he cannot hear much because of his loud, beating heart. He stares at Louis’ sleeping form, wondering, worrying. It feels too quick. But also, not really. Six months is quite a long time, Harry rationalises and while they lacked physical touches, they made up with countless discussions over the balconies, through a phone… through their instruments.

“Doesn’t that sound corny,” Harry huffs to himself but he is smiling. Hard.

Fuck. He is _so_ happy.

“We sound great,” Louis’ small, slightly still-sleepy voice makes Harry snap back to the present as his boyfriend lazily gets up only to plop back down on Harry laps, head immediately resting on Harry’s shoulder. Louis nuzzles his neck and Harry simply holds him closer like he is used to by now, fingers gently playing with the hair on Louis’ nape. It has been getting long, very long, and Louis has refused to go to the hairdresser just yet while Harry just cut his own hair a few weeks ago.

“We do,” he agrees. “You did amazing.”

“And you’re a great composer too, Haz,” Louis compliments back. “Will you keep this for yourself?”

“For ourselves,” Harry corrects, dropping a kiss on Louis’ temple. He just can’t help but kiss his boy any chance he gets.

“And Snowball.”

Oh right, he forgot about that cat.

“And Snowball…” he repeats.

“Don’t you sound so defeated!”

“She doesn’t like me! And I don’t know what to do!”

Louis only laughs instead of reassuring him this time.

-: ✧ :- 

Another week goes by without a hunch, and another week after that and so on and so forth. Harry can’t truly say he is surprised, really, with how easy things have been when he and Louis seem to almost always be on the same wavelength. They only ever argue when it’s time to cook or do the laundry, though the latter one happens even less often considering they both still barely go out. Louis even less, and he’s the one with the clothes overflowing from the new closet they bought a few days back so Louis could properly move in all his stuff now that they decided they quite liked this whole living together thing.

Harry, on his part, hasn’t exactly gone back to work since concert halls are still closed but he has started to give online piano lessons. Lessons Louis also listens to sometimes while pretending he is not. It, of course, doesn’t pay as much as when he performed here and there, but it is enough to get him by since he can’t exactly ask Louis to pay for rent as of right now since he still has to pay for his own flat as well. He is seriously considering posting some of his composition online in the hope of bringing some extra income, possibly even get new opportunity to compose for a small movie or show, who knows, one can dream, but for now, this is good enough.

It is now night as September slowly settles in, the wind blowing gently against the bedroom’s windows, easing the summer heat. Harry, at times, can’t believe how much time has passed while it simultaneously feels like just a week ago he was shouting _Happy New Year_ with Niall in his overpacked pub.

“I’m gonna sell my flat, wanna stay with you,” Louis suddenly mumbles, breaking the almost eerie silence.

Harry is suddenly wide awake as he looks down on Louis who just buries his head more fiercely against his chest.

“Yeah?” Harry whispers back.

“Yeah,” he feels, more than hears, Louis’ shy response.

“The walls are pretty thin though,” Harry muses, “we should search for a bigger, better sound-isolated flat. Maybe a house. Could start looking now, better be early.”

A part of him says he should worry about how fast things are going again despite the long months behind them but when Louis’ head suddenly rises up and the man’s sparkling blue eyes look back at him with hope and relief shining in them, Harry could not care less about those worries especially when Louis leans forward and kisses him.

“I would love that,” Louis murmurs against his lips, resting their foreheads together.

“Good.”

They share one or two more chaste kisses before Louis decides it is enough and rests his head on Harry’s chest again.

Harry smiles as he feels their heartbeats synchronise. His hands gently caress Louis’ back as he feels his boyfriend slowly fall asleep. From the corner of his eyes, he spots Snowball sitting by the bedside table, slightly illuminated by the fairy lights decorating the corner and pupils dilated as she stares at the couple. Harry chuckles a little, softly beckoning her to come a little closer which she surprisingly does. Except she _runs_ for it and Harry removes his hand promptly in fear she might bite or scratch him by the looks of it.

She immediately jumps on the bed, which she has never done before until now and her purrs are now loud and clear to Harry’s ears, as she sniffs around for a moment. Her cold snout makes Harry jump just a tiny bit when it comes close to his skin but then she eventually head-butts Louis’ face who doesn’t budge at all, already deeply asleep.

She meows curiously as she turns her gaze towards Harry who laughs lowly again.

“He’s sleeping, you’re joining?”

He doesn’t get a response, Snowball simply flops to the side, fitting herself perfectly into Harry’s arm so that he’s already cradling her while his other arm remains around Louis’ waist. Harry blinks but then smiles, scratching the cat under her chin.

He closes his eyes himself, letting Snow’s purrs, Louis’ calming breath and the familiar tune of _Mi Mi Ré Fa Sol Do Do_ lull him to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on twitter ([main](http://twitter.com/darlinlou) \+ [fic acc](http://twitter.com/myenglishrose_)) and [tumblr](http://lwtisloved.tumblr.com/) lovelies <3  
> Thank you for reading, dear, may our paths meet again x


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